Lovers Without A History
by allisonlovesdegrassi
Summary: A compilation of Eclare one-shots. Some might be related, others might not, who knows!
1. Black Coffee

**For the first story in my series of Eclare one-shots, I thought I'd do something a little different. I hope you all like it! ;)**

* * *

That stupid line on the computer screen continued to taunt me. It blinked with a steady rhythm on the far left, a whole blank row following it. The line kept egging me on to write the next word- which would lead to the next line and paragraph- of this World History paper that I'd now convinced myself was impossible. I looked over at the clock that sat beside me on the desk- 1:12 AM. And I had 360 words left to go.

Deciding to give my aching head a break, I tiptoed downstairs, being careful not to wake my sleeping parents. Maybe a can of soda would help me focus- preferably one that was caffeinated. As my bare feet made their way across the soft carpet in the dining room, I noticed a sliver of light peeking through the bottom of the kitchen door. Who could possibly be up this late? Pushing it open, I saw my father standing near the coffee maker, which sputtered and steamed promisingly.

He wore a pair of green plaid pajama bottoms and a long, grey robe, the pockets of which he had his hands shoved into as he leaned against the counter. His thick hair- that had once been nearly black and was now peppered with gray- was ruffled on the left side, as if he'd been passed out on the couch. I stepped closer across the cool marble floor as he continued to stare blankly.

"What are you doing up so late?" I asked quietly through the silence, trying not to startle him. Still, he jumped slightly as his head snapped toward me, green eyes wide. Within a second, I could see his shocked expression fade into relief.

"Marathon on the Automobile Network," he said, almost embarrassed. "Vintage Hour isn't until three." I nodded, opening the fridge in search of a Coke. "I could ask you the same thing, Aud. Isn't it a school night?"

"Yup," I said, leaning so far forward my nose almost touched a carton of eggs. "Which is why I need to get my paper done." I resurfaced with a can in my hand.

"Having trouble with a paper?" he asked, crossing his arms. "That doesn't sound like you."

"It's a history paper."

"Ah." He smiled knowingly. "You're more of the creative type. Like your mother." I rolled my eyes as I walked past him to get a glass from the cupboard, but as soon as my back was to his, I smiled a little in spite of myself. Writing was something I was proud to have in common with my mom. I stood on my toes to reach a long glass on the top shelf and, after plucking it, made my way back to where I'd come in.

As I pushed open the door, I mumbled something about getting back to work to my father, who took me a little by surprise when, after a beat, he called, "Hey, hold on a minute."

"What?" I asked without turning around, aware of the ticking grandfather clock in the living room, which was getting ready to chime at the bottom of the hour.

He stepped behind me, touching my shoulder as a cue to turn around. "First of all," he began, taking the soda and cup from my hands, "this is no way to stay awake when pulling an all-nighter. Trust me, black coffee is rule number one."

"And what is rule number two, if you're the expert?" I swung at his arms in an attempt to get my drink back, but he set it on the counter. Instead of responding, he poured two cups of coffee and handed me one.

"Do you know how to play poker?" he asked simply. I just looked at him, trying to figure out if it was a serious question. Before I could answer, he spun on his heel and walked over to the small kitchen table, gesturing for me to sit across from him. He reached into the basket in the middle, pulling out a deck of cards that I'd never known were there.

"No, Dad, I don't know how to play poker," I finally answered his question. He smirked, already shuffling.

"_Which is why_ I'm going to teach you."

"Right now? But my paper—"

"Won't get anywhere until you take some time off," he finished for me. I sat down hesitantly. The clock was chiming 1:30, and I wondered how long I'd be sitting in this chair. "Did you know that, before we moved to Toronto, your grandpa and I used to play poker every Friday night?"

I hadn't known that, actually. "Really. Every _Friday_ night?"

He chuckled. "That's right. And then I turned sixteen."

"Mmm," I replied, answering my previous unspoken question; we were going to be there awhile. "So, how do you start?"

We played for another good hour. There wasn't much to be heard other than the shuffling of cards and cereal pieces we used as chips— we just enjoyed each other's company in the quiet of night. That's how we easily heard footsteps on the staircase, a tired, clumsy trot. My mother came in then, clad in a modest floral nightgown, her curly, shoulder-length hair awry. She didn't even seem to notice she wasn't alone in the kitchen as she shuffled in and rifled through the bottom of the bread drawer, eventually pulling out a half-eaten candy bar. My dad and I giggled quietly as her back was turned to us.

"What'cha got there, honey?" my dad asked. She spun around much like he had earlier that night, except she threw her back against the refrigerator, one hand to her chest. Her ice-blue eyes that were identical to my own were like perfect spheres popping from her head, and her small, pink lips formed a tiny "o." Dad and I couldn't hold in our laughter any longer.

Mom's cheeks blushed deeply as she said, "What are you two doing down here so late?"

"Just taking a little study break," he told her, winking at me. She crossed her arms, cocking her head to the side.

"Well it's going to have to be cut short," she said with authority, though it was hard to take her seriously in that moment. My dad rose from his seat, walking slowly toward her as she continued. "Both of you are going to be so tired tomorrow and you know I have to be to work early and what if I can't get Auden up in time for school—"

"Then I'll handle it." With that, he took her sharply angled elbows in his hands, kissing her forehead delicately. She blushed again, beaming as she looked up to meet his eyes.

"Don't you always?" She kissed him on the cheek before shuffling back up to her room. I winced, but just barely.

My father and I agreed to finish our game and then call it a night, since he was already letting me win anyway. He shuffled and dealt the cards distractedly, obviously thinking of something else. Still, we continued in complete silence. Just before he was about to pick up his hand, he looked at me with a dreamy expression and his crooked mouth— _my _crooked mouth— curved up at the ends.

"Auden, I am still so in love with your mother," he told me simply, then went on to scan his cards.

Right then I knew that I was nowhere near understanding what there was between my parents. All I knew was that it was something really special, something words couldn't begin to describe. And that, whatever it was, I hoped to have it someday.


	2. Shooting Star

**Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long for me to post the second one-shot, but here it is! I've been super busy with school lately and haven't found much time to write. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading! :)**

**I do not own Degrassi, Eli, or Your Guardian Angel by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.**

* * *

Twinkling white specks were scattered across the navy sky, illuminating the jungle gym that sat before me. From somewhere within it, I heard a high-pitched squeal. It had probably come from Alli, or Fiona, or possibly Adam— his female tendencies got the better of him every so often. Just then, I saw Fiona leap out of the shade of a wooden tower, sliding down a pole and sprinting as soon as she hit the ground. Adam emerged not even half a second later and chased her around the park, his toes practically on her heels. With an indignant huff, Alli leaped down from a row of monkey bars as the others fled past her. "You know," she said with her hands planted firmly on her hips, "The game's no fun if you two only chase each other." I smiled fondly to myself. Not only had someone else noted the obvious spark between the two, but Alli was actually feeling like the fifth wheel for once, being the only one there that night who wasn't part of a pairing.

With that thought, I turned to notice that the swing beside me was now empty. The long, metal chains of the one I was sitting on creaked as I swiveled my body around to search the rest of the park, which was nearly pitch black. Technically it closed at dusk, so there was only a single flickering streetlight over by the picnic tables. I gave up and turned back in the direction of my friends.

Moments later, I felt something cold and strong reach under my hair to touch the back of my neck, causing the hair on my forearms to prickle in a rippling motion. I jumped from my seat, reaching my hand back to warm my now-icy neck and squealed, "Eli!"

Just as I'd presumed, Eli Goldsworthy stood behind me with a devilish grin spread wide across his face, his frozen hand still in the air. "Scared yet, Edwards?" he asked darkly, stepping toward me. I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning my face up to his.

"I told you, I'm not scared of the dark," I defended, my heart still racing (though that easily could have been a result of how close Eli and I were at that moment). My jaw quivered a little as I spoke, which he noticed, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "I-I am a little cold," I admitted.

After a pause, I noticed that he was now looking past me. "Well," he said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, "You know what they say. Heat rises." He gestured at something behind me by cocking his head toward it, a small smirk already forming on his pale lips. I turned around and had to squint my eyes to adjust to the black of the night. My eyes followed the gravel trail that wound through the grassy park before making a sudden left turn and following an incline. It was then that I could just barely make out the outline of a large hill at the end of the trail, barricaded around the top by a rope fence held up by thick, wooden poles. The hill was steep, but the peak was round and flat, and the grass on it seemed to glow with a faint blue from starlight alone. "Go for a walk?"

I turned back to Eli, who was now watching me expectantly, and felt a shiver crawl up my spine. "Sure," I said, my breath hanging in the frigid air seconds after I spoke. Shoving my hands in the pockets of my grey peacoat, I started to make my way to the trail, Eli quickly falling in step beside me. "You do realize that it will actually be colder up there, right?" I asked after taking a few steps. "Heat does rise, but when you're outdoors—"

"I know that," Eli cut me off matter-of-factly. "But it made for a disgustingly suave line, did it not?" Heat rose to my cheeks. Trying to hide my flush, I stared at the ground, though there wasn't much to do about the slight smile on my face. As we reached the base of the hill, I felt Eli's hand reach into my coat pocket, unraveling my fisted hand and interlacing our fingers. We were silent the rest of the way up as we walked just like that, hand in hand.

The grass was slightly overgrown and glistening with frost, softly giving way beneath my knit boots as I made my way across the top of the hill. It was cold, yes, but not even a whisper of a breeze ever came through— the air was still. I shuffled to the outer edge and peeked over the fence, where there was a drop almost like that of a cliff. Far off I could see the tower of an old church, and I was so high up it felt as if I could lean forward and reach my arm into its warmly lit window.

"Clare?" I snapped out of my trance, turning around to find Eli now sitting on the ground in the center of the hill, watching me. As I moved toward him, I blushed a little, embarrassed at how long I had probably been gazing blankly. After wiping away some moisture with my coat sleeve, I joined him in the grass. "Look up," he said quietly, his own head tilted upward. I did just so, and a gasp escaped from my throat.

From up there, the sky looked more vibrant than anything I'd ever seen, as if the stars had been freshly painted on a dark blue canvas that stretched over everything— the playscape our friends were still swinging around on; the twisting gravel trail; the church that now had smoke billowing from its chimney; the river that flowed just a short distance away; the grass; the hill; the trees; Eli and I as we lost time in each other's words, eventually lying side-by-side and admiring the artwork and talking, just talking. I found myself telling him more than I'd ever expressed to anyone. I told him about my childhood growing up with Darcy, how a strange man had come to our house, how she'd gotten raped. I told him about my niner year of high school and feeling like an outcast for the way I'd dressed and my lack of out-of-classroom knowledge. I told him about my breakup with KC. I told him about my parents' constant fighting, the nights that turned into mornings as tears fell hot down my cheeks. I told him about how he'd driven me crazy when we'd first met, feeling his chest lift with chuckles beneath my cheek. I told him about how it had felt to almost lose him to Fitz that night, his arm tightening around my waist in response. And likewise, he told me things, too.

When we ran out of things to say and our throats grew raw from speaking, we listened to music. Eli pulled his mp3 player from his jacket pocket, putting it on shuffle. I was a little skeptical at first because of what I normally heard played in Morty, but I found myself pleasantly surprised by the strum of acoustic guitar accompanied by gentle melodies. Taking deep breaths, I closed my eyes, taking in Eli's musky scent and listening to the words carefully.

_When I see your smile,_

_Tears roll down my face._

_I can't replace._

_And now that I'm stronger, I've figured out_

_How this world turns cold_

_And it breaks through my soul_

_And I know, I'll find_

_Deep inside me_

_I can be the one._

_I will never let you fall,_

_I'll stand up with you forever._

_I'll be there for you through it all,_

_Even if saving you sends me to heaven._

I had nearly fallen asleep when I felt him nudge my shoulder delicately, whispering "Clare, Clare, look." Prying my heavy eyelids apart, I lifted my head from his chest slightly to get a better view of the sky. Half a second later, I saw a streak glide across the stars, eventually fading out in the atmosphere. "Shooting star."

"Never seen one before," I mumbled sleepily, lying my head back down and closing my eyes again.

"Better make a wish then," Eli whispered, tilting down and pressing his lips to my forehead. As I snuggled closer to his warm body, aware of the cold air surrounding us, the music still humming quietly, and the kiss that still lingered on my skin, I realized that in that moment, I had absolutely nothing to wish for.

Then, as if on cue, I heard footsteps trotting through the grass toward me and stopping somewhere a little too close. "There you guys are. I've wanted to leave for the past _hour_, let's go already," the familiar voice of my best friend called from above me. I sighed, hesitating for a moment before climbing to my feet. We jogged back down to the parking lot quickly, too quickly, to meet up with Fiona and Adam, who were shivering by Eli's car._ I take that back, _I thought as we climbed into the hearse and pulled back onto the street, hoping the magic of the star hadn't worn off quite yet._ There is just one wish I'd like granted about now._


	3. Silence

**Hey everyone! So this won't be my typical cutesy Eclare story. I decided to try something a little different (yet again!). ;) It's a bit of a short one, sorry. Thanks to everyone for reading, and I really hope you enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

Ringing silence and sighing breaths that moved the crook of my arm accordingly; smooth, bubblegum lips that parted just slightly; pale skin with a flush at the cheek that never fully faded; muttered whispers that spoke no language; dark eyelashes embellishing lids that concealed oceans of blue. I watched her sleep.

Surrounding us were my things— nearly everything to ever come into my possession within the last two years. No, actually, much of it had been cleaned out. There was now table space where a stack of popcorn containers once sat and a clear floor to walk on now that the heaps of boxes had been removed. I would have never been able to do it without her, the girl now dreaming in my arms, her perfect little hand with curled fingers resting on my chest. Still, though, the room was not clean. I could feel _her _lingering.

I could feel her in the framed photo that I knew was thrown somewhere in the back of my closet, her hazel eyes probably narrowed into slits at the thought of what I was keeping from her on the other side of the door. I could feel her in the stacks of crumpled letters shoved in the bottom drawer of my desk, each signed "I love you," followed by... I couldn't bear to think of her name. I could feel her in the small, square wrapper still tucked in the corner of my underwear drawer, a reminder of my first time, our first time. I could feel her in the air around me as she tried to whisper my name, though now she was without a voice. I could feel her in the back of my mind, as I always did, in the memories I knew would never go away.

Clare stirred just slightly, letting out a tiny yawn that sounded like a booming echo in the silence. Still, she did not wake. I pushed aside a single golden ringlet of hair that had fallen over her forehead, revealing the soft, milky skin below. As I heard her hum subconsciously, I glanced at the standard digital alarm clock on my bedside table that, with red, glowing numbers, alerted me it was now after midnight. She had planned on going to Alli's house at ten to stay the night, but she'd fallen asleep while we were watching a movie. Surely Alli would cover for her friend. Surely she would understand.

I did not try to wake her. I needed this moment to stay. Who was to say this wouldn't be the last time we'd be together like this? Some day soon, she would leave me— of this I was sure. Now she was still oblivious to the demons that I always denied still haunted me, how they still hissed in my ear and scolded me for what I'd done; what I'd never be able to undo. A life was lost, and it had been at my expense. Yes, today I'd made it through. But what about tomorrow? Clare's a smart girl, there was no getting around that. She was smart, and I was weak. It was only a matter of time before she discovered that I wasn't fully healed, completely unready for what the two of us had gotten ourselves into.

Love. Just days before, Clare had told me she loved me. It had killed me to see the hurt in her eyes not from what I'd said but from what I hadn't. The reason was not that I didn't love her back. I did, oh, believe me, I did. The issue at hand was that, in the pit of my being, I knew that I was also still in love with _her._ Confessing my feelings for Clare wouldn't be fair to anyone, not any of the three of us.

_Don't wake up,_ I pleaded to the sleeping girl silently. _Please don't wake up. _What if she did at that very moment? She would awake to see my cheeks that were sticky with dried tears and my eyes that were now clouded and wet with fresh ones. _What's wrong? _she might ask, smoothing my mussed hair and wiping a tear away with her lips, her candy-pink lips. And it would take everything I had in me not to scream. After all, what _was _wrong? Was there something wrong with the voice that growled at me in the back of my mind for letting someone else take_ her _place in my bed? I held Clare tighter, protecting her from whatever was ailing me and praying for the voices to stop in spite of myself.

She was here, she was real. As she still dozed between my arms, I could physically feel the soft cotton of the sweater she was wearing, smell her vanilla shampoo. The voice in my head that had now built up to an unceasing shriek belonged to a girl that was gone and was never coming back. It wasn't _her,_ it was me— it was all in my head. Clare had been the best thing to happen to me in years, and soon she'd be gone, all because I was messed. I was disgustingly, helplessly messed.

I gazed longingly at her face as if it'd be the last time, a symphony of screeches cracking through my skull all the while. Her mouth was drawn up just a little at the corners; she was so comfortable, so serene. The screams grew louder, more insistent, more aggressive. Her chest rose and fell slowly with deep, wistful breaths. Something then appeared that I hadn't seen for awhile— meeting my eyes were two orbs of icy blue, alert yet still heavy with sleep.

The room was silent, the only sound to break through being her hushed voice moments later, "Hey, is everything alright?"

* * *

**Yep, that's where I end it.**

**This story was inspired by the song Stay Close, Don't Go by Secondhand Serenade.**


End file.
